


AutoErotica (or four times Coulson and Skye have sex in Lola)

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, D/s, Dom Phil Coulson, F/M, Kinky Car Sex, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Naked Female Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Skye and Coulson take turns being bossy, Skye/Coulson/Lola ot3, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3455084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between "Seeds" and "TRACKS," Coulson and Skye start a sexual relationship -- Lola is an important player therein. </p>
<p>I blame this on Tumblr, especially becketted and lastcenturykindagirl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	AutoErotica (or four times Coulson and Skye have sex in Lola)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts), [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



1.

She spends a lot of time in the SUV because it’s dark and cozy like her van, so even though Lola is right there, it never really occurs to her to chill there. 

Lola isn’t dark or enclosed, after all. Coulson keeps her top off basically all the time, and that’s not what Skye looks for in a hideaway. 

Except that after his trip to Mexico with May, he puts on Lola’s hard top. 

Which is why, when she sneaks down to the SUV late the next night, dressed in her flannel pants and an oversized t-shirt, she’s tempted by Lola. Like, Skye’s never been a big fan of cars exactly, but she’s sort of ridiculously sentimental about  _ some _ things. 

And, well, probably because it’s so important to  _ him _ , Lola has become one of those things. 

Part of it, too, is that she tells herself she might be the only one who he would allow to hang out inside. 

(She doesn’t know whether that’s true or not, of course, but it is, if nothing else, a pleasant fiction.)

Careful not to leave smudges on the paint, Skye opens the driver-side door and climbs inside, sinking into the driver’s seat. She tosses her tablet into the passenger seat as she closes the door behind her and gets comfortable. The seats aren’t big — there’s not room to really curl up like she can in the SUV — but they’re softer, and the smaller space feels cozy.

Slowly, she runs her palms around the circumference of the large steering wheel, then down along the center console. There’s something nice about Lola’s age — there’s a character and a history to her that appeals. It’s sensual to touch her, like she’s touching a piece of history and also a piece of  _ Coulson _ .

She smells like Coulson, too, now that the space is enclosed by the hardtop, so it’s easy to imagine that her hands are stroking  _ him _ and not his car. She’s always connected the two of them, anyways — Lola and Coulson. 

He did it first, she thinks, the very first time he took her out. And the connection between classic car and Coulson has only grown for her since then.

Except that thinking about him is a little weird lately. Like, she’s always been attracted to him — that’s not even up for debate — but she can’t call his face to mind without seeing him strapped into that machine, begging for death. It brings up this raw, bubbling  _ rage _ inside of her, this protective desire to put herself between him and anyone who might even think of hurting him.

And then she remembers the feel of his hand on her face yesterday, wiping away her tears, of his own fierce desire to protect her and of the way he couldn’t stand to keep a secret from her. 

There’s just...a lot. There’s a lot there when she thinks about him, lately, and it’s more than she can really sort through in her own mind.

But whatever confusion there is doesn’t stop her from appreciating how good he smells — a little earthy with just a hint of citrus, probably his aftershave. 

Her life would be so much simpler if that smell didn’t turn her on, but it  _ does _ . Just a hint of it makes her wet, like her body is ready for him even now when he’s not actually here.

As though they have their own free will, her hands move from stroking Lola to stroking her thighs while she breathes in the scent of  _ Coulson _ , and her fingers are pressed between her legs before she can consciously consider whether it’s a horrible idea to masturbate here.

It’s sort of hot, though — the thought of touching herself in Coulson’s space — and her arousal blocks out any thoughts of how horribly offended Coulson might be if he found out. 

Instead of worrying about it, she sucks her right index and middle fingers into her mouth, wetting them before pushing her hand down under her pajama pants.

As she works her fingers down over her clit, her left hand slides up her top, lifting the fabric out of the way so she can pinch her exposed left nipple. She licks her lips and sinks further into the sensations, arching her back against the seat.

It’s too easy, when she’s surrounded by the scent of Coulson in a space that is  _ all Coulson _ , to imagine that it’s his fingers that push inside of her; to imagine him here with her. Which is maybe why it takes her so long to realize he’s being watched.

She isn’t sure how long she’s been at it — long enough to feel a sheen of sweat on her face, long enough to feel herself dripping wet under her fingers, long enough to smell her own arousal instead of the remaining scent of him — when she looks out the windshield through slitted eyes to see him standing there. He’s a bit more disheveled than she’s used to seeing him, due to the late hour. His jacket is gone, tie loosened to expose the lower part of his neck, and shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

It makes her freeze, yank her hand out of her underwear, until she realizes that he’s too engrossed by the sight of her hand on her breast to notice that she’s watching him back. She pinches her nipple harder, twisting slightly, and watches his tongue poke out of his mouth to draw a slow trail along his lower lip.

It makes her bold — like startlingly bold, considering that the thought of messing things up with Coulson is terrifying — so that when his eyes meet hers, she’s no longer freaked out.

Coulson, of course, is completely freaked out. He looks more or less like a deer in headlights, but before he can bolt, she tugs her t-shirt over her head, baring her torso entirely to his gaze. 

His jaw tenses and quivers, then opens in what might be a groan. His lips move, forming what she’s pretty sure is her name.

And then he steps closer.

She’s  _ torn _ for a moment about whether she hopes he’ll join her inside Lola or not. Like, she pretty much wants to feel his fingers inside of her more than anything; more than she wants to know what it’s like to kiss him — and she  _ really _ wants to know what it’s like to kiss him. 

But there’s something that still feels...innocent, about this. Like, it’s something they can recover from, something that doesn’t change the course of their relationship forever. 

Coulson seems to agree, though, because he makes no move to enter the car. Instead, he stops outside the passenger door, hand resting on Lola’s paint, so he can get a better view. 

Coulson is kind of a perv, it turns out. 

Skye holds his eyes as she cups her breasts and drags her thumbs over her nipples, and then slides her palms down her stomach and under her waistband. He keeps watching as she slips the pants and her underwear down and off, leaving her naked behind glass, like some kind of private show for his enjoyment.

Yeah, Skye is kind of a perv, too.

She turns to face him, so that her legs are stretched over the center console and into the passenger bucket seat, and Coulson’s eyes take a long, slow detour down to her ankles and then back up. His lips part again, and she sees him move his hand along the door. For a moment, she's sure he's about to open it, until it occurs to her that he's just stroking Lola, touching the cherry red paint as though it's her legs, and the thought makes her entire lower body clench.

“Coulson,” she sighs his name even though she's not sure he can hear it.

“Skye,” he sighs back, and it's just barely barely audible.

Slowly, deliberately, she parts her legs for him, opening herself up to his gaze. Her left foot lands on Lola's dash, her right works up onto the roof, and this isn’t really comfortable by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s really fucking hot, the way he’s licking his lips like all he can think about is putting his mouth on her.

Her fingers slide back down her belly and then between her legs; she holds his gaze as she pushes two fingers inside, but it’s not the right angle, not the right feel. Somehow, she’s certain that  _ his _ fingers would be perfect, though.

His eyes dip down in order to watch her slip her fingers out and then bring them up to circle her clit, firm pressure that makes her shudder. 

“Skye,” she can almost hear her name again, and then Coulson is fumbling with something just out of her eyesight before he’s leaning forward against Lola again, watching. 

His cock, she realizes. He was freeing his cock and now he’s jacking off as he watches her finger herself. And that’s incredibly hot for some reason.

She’s close almost too quickly, faster than she wants to be. Despite the discomfort and the weird angle of her back, she’s too turned on to want this to end. So she stops, instead running her palms back up her stomach to cup her breasts. 

Coulson shudders visibly, and she can see him stop stroking himself as well while he watches her pinch her nipples.

Again, his hand drags across Lola’s paint, this sensual movement that she can almost feel on her stomach. Paired with him licking his lips again, it’s too much to handle. 

She feels the pulse of an orgasm start, even without direct stimulation, so she gives in and buries her fingers inside of herself, extending the feeling as much as she can.

He holds her gaze as she comes, and she struggles to keep her eyes open until she just  _ can’t  _ any more. A moment later, she hears a quiet groan that she assumes means Coulson is coming, too.

As soon as she’s finished, she sits upright in the seat again — more to get the weird kinks out of her back than to hide her shame, though.

There’s a moment that might be awkward — she’s afraid it will be awkward — but then it just, weirdly, isn’t. In silent agreement, they dress, and Skye slides on the slippers she’d abandoned near the gas pedals before grabbing her tablet and exiting the car. 

She swallows and then meets his eyes.

“Did you need something, Sir?” She asks, consummate professional tone as though Coulson just watched her check her email.

“No,” he replies. “I stopped by your bunk, and you weren’t there, so I… I just wanted to make sure you’re…”

She smiles at him, deeply touched by his concern, and she’s no longer faking her non-awkwardness.

“I’m fine,” she promises. “Honestly.” 

He nods once.

“I didn’t get to talk to you after you went back to the Wall of Valor.” 

Ward had taken her down to the science nerd bar after, bought her a beer and let her have a quiet conversation with Simmons. 

“I found Agent Avery’s name.”

Good,” he grins at her, and she thinks he’s not faking his non-awkwardness, either. “She died a hero.” 

Skye nods. As much as she hates this idea that people died to save her, it feels good to know this much. To know more. 

“I still wish I knew…”

“I know,” he sighs, and rests a soft hand on her shoulder. It’s nice and warm and gentle, and she leans into it. 

“But even if I’m an object of unknown origin...I found out I belong here.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way.” 

His eyes start dancing with extra excitement, and Skye furrows her brow at him. 

“What?”

“How’d you like to take your Level One exams?”

  
  


2.

Late the next night, he can’t sleep.

It’s not a new situation, but this time he can pinpoint a particular cause — a cause that has been on his mind all day. 

He’s already dressed for bed in sweatpants and a black tshirt, but that doesn’t stop him from padding down from his room and to Skye’s bunk door. Not that he has any intention of knocking or announcing his presence, more that he just needs to know she’s occupied up here and not downstairs.

He can easily hear her moving around inside, which means no one will be down in the loading bay. Quietly, he slips down the stairs and to Lola’s driver side door. 

It should probably make him feel more shame than it does because he has come down specifically to masturbate in the space where Skye was last night.

If someone asked him to explain himself, the fact is that he couldn’t. 

Yes, he’s been attracted to Skye since their first meeting — that’s an obvious thing. But things have grown for him, gotten dangerous and out of control, and it’s all just so much  _ more _ than attraction. 

He wants to say that it started when she saved him from Raina’s memory machine, but the truth is that there was something there before that.

Regardless of whatever feelings he has developed, though, his behavior the previous night was inappropriate in the extreme, but he can’t seem to move himself past it. She’s consumed his thoughts all day, and the only thing he’s been able to think about is slipping inside of Lola to see if he can smell her.

Once he’s seated behind the steering wheel with the door closed behind him, he takes a slow, deep breath to see.

He can.

With the hardtop on, the car has held onto the scent of her — feminine arousal and the light perfume Skye wears.

The smell is enough to make him hard as granite, so added to the memory of seeing her — of Skye showing him her body, of Skye splayed and squirming and  _ coming  _ for him — it’s perhaps understandable when he pushes his sweats down his thighs far enough to free his cock. 

Moving slowly, he pumps his fist over himself, pulling easily to mind the vision of Skye from the night before. He had wanted to taste her, the glistening evidence of her arousal, and that’s what he thinks about as he strokes himself. 

His tongue inside of her, and sliding over her, and making her squirm, and making her  _ come. _

He’s so so close, working his hand so quickly over himself, that he’s completely startled by the sound of Lola’s passenger door opening and someone climbing inside. 

Skye. 

“Skye,” he grunts her name, and tears his hand away from his cock. 

“No, don’t stop,” she chastises him and grabs his right hand in order to direct it back to his cock. “I was watching,” she gestures to the window, “but it was kind of creepy when you didn’t know I was there.” 

Coulson lets out something like a laugh, which turns into a groan when Skye’s fingers slide through his and together they start stroking his cock again. 

“What were you thinking about?”

Her voice is soft and low — just above a whisper, and pitched so that it makes every hair on his body stand up, like every pore wants to find a way to get closer to her. 

“You,” he manages to answer, though the feel of her hand on him and the sound of her voice make it really hard to talk. 

“What was I doing?” 

Coulson shakes his head, forces a swallow, and manages to answer — even as her hand urges them to pick up the pace.

“I want to know what you taste like,” he finally grinds out.

Her hand stalls, so his does, too, and he’s pulled back from the edge of orgasm, though their fingers stay entwined and wrapped tightly around his cock.

“You were thinking about going down on me?” 

“Yes,” he grunts and thrusts his hips up into their combined grasp. 

“That’s so hot.”

She pulls her hand off of him, which also dislodges his own grip, and Coulson groans in frustration as he lets his hands drop to his sides.

He hears a rustle of clothing, and only at that moment does it occur to him that his eyes have been closed again. Slowly, he cranes his head in her direction to see her right hand disappearing under her pajama pants. When her fingers emerge, they’re glistening, and Coulson’s jaw goes slack as she brings her fingers to his mouth and drags them along his lower lip.

Lacking any ability to be calm or collected, Coulson grasps her wrist and holds her hand steady as he sucks her fingers into his mouth. Their eyes hold while his tongue laps enthusiastically against her fingers, and once he’s done, he grips the back of her neck and hauls her into a kiss. 

For all that he’s far from gentle, her mouth is still rough against his — she’s not shy about biting down on his lower lip in between moments of exploring his mouth. 

Coulson’s hand slides up the back of her head to hold her against him, and he’s only dislodged when she climbs over the center console and into his lap.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts against her mouth as the warm flannel between her legs rubs against his bared erection. His left hand slides up into her hair again, anchoring her lips to his, as his right hand begins to make an exploration of her body over her pajamas.

Skye stops him, though, grasping his right hand in hers and bringing their hands back between them to stroke his cock. She raises herself up so her head is pressed against the roof, but it puts more room between their lower bodies for him to work, and his left hand falls away from her hair to grip her thigh. Once he’s pumping his fist over himself again, Skye lets his hand go and places both palms on his neck. 

“Coulson,” she calls his name, forcing him to open his eyes and look up at her. 

“Yes,” he sighs, “keep talking.” 

She laughs and slides her fingers along his jaw and then down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. As she drags them back up — scratching along his five o’clock shadow — she leans in to whisper in his ear. 

“You’re really sexy, AC.” 

Coulson’s half gone with lust, mostly out of his mind with his approaching orgasm, but he’s not too far gone too laugh at that. He saw her completely naked last night, and he’s under no illusions about who the sexy one is. 

“ You  _ are _ ,” she insists. “I’ve always wondered when I’d get to see you out of a suit.”

His eyes slip closed as Skye’s fingers trace the edges of his jaw, and then her right hand disappears under her pajama pants.

“I’m thinking about going down on you,” she whispers in his ear. 

“Skye,” he grunts because of course all he can manage is to grunt her name. She kisses him, short and hard and fast, and then presses her lips back to his ear. 

“I want to taste you, too.” 

“ _ Christ _ , Skye, I’m —”

He doesn’t get a chance to tell her how close he is because she comes first, quiet gasps against his ear as she leans harder against him, her hips moving against her hand almost desperately.  

It’s awkward to move his fist over himself with Skye collapsed against his chest, but he keeps going, keeps straining to come. 

Once Skye has recovered herself, she pushes back and brings her wet fingers to his mouth again. Coulson sucks at them greedily, but she only lets them barely skim his lips before dragging them down his chin. 

He comes hard at the taste of her, the feel of her, the smell of her around him, and spills into his lap and up against her flannel pants. His breathing is still ragged when she leans in to kiss him, soft and sweet and something entirely different than the raw lust that has fueled him for the past twenty four hours. 

Coulson manages to wipe his hand on his pants before running both palms back up her back, extending the soft press of her lips.

“I was thinking about you all day,” Skye tells him quietly between kisses. 

“Me, too.”

“Like, I think about you a lot anyways —”

Coulson half-chuckles at that, at the idea that Skye has entertained thoughts about this the same as he has, and runs his hands down her arms.

“Not as much as I think about you.”

Skye laughs — not a bitter laugh or a cynical laugh, but a real, honest, happy one. 

“I thought you would tell me we couldn’t do this.”

“So did I,” he admits, but doesn’t stop kissing her. 

She rises up higher on her knees, so her head is brushing the roof again, and changes the angle of their kiss. Her hands cup his cheeks, directing him as she takes the lead, kissing him with a thoroughness that’s almost overwhelming.

“If we might have to stop,” she murmurs between kisses, “I want to enjoy this while I can.” 

“Don’t want to stop,” Coulson answers, letting his hands run down to her legs, where he palms the back of her thighs down to the backs of her knees. “Tomorrow,” he offers suddenly.

“Tomorrow?”

“I’m going to take Lola out tomorrow to meet with the chief of police.”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me.” It comes out closer to begging than he’d have liked, and he leans up towards her to desperately seek another kiss. 

“To meet the police?” 

“To take a ride in the Italian countryside.”

Skye smiles against his mouth.

“I dunno,” she responds, and he’s pretty sure she’s teasing him. “I have a lot more to do here to plan the op.” 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises. 

“How’s that?” 

“You can drive Lola.” 

And that seems to bring her up short. 

“You can’t be serious.”

Coulson frowns at her incredulity.

“Of course I’m serious.”

“ But you don’t let people even  _ touch  _ Lola.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her and drags his palms back up her thighs to cup her ass. 

“I don’t let them masturbate in Lola, either.” 

“Hmm, so you’re saying I get to break all the rules?” 

He avoids answering her, but the fact is that his life has been demonstrably improved since Skye came in and started ignoring rules. 

“Wear a dress,” he suggests, squeezing low on her ass so she can feel his fingers between her legs, and Skye laughs in response. 

  
  


3.

He’s waiting for her the next day in a grey suit, leaning up against Lola’s driver side door. Her top is off again, and Skye is glad she had guessed correctly and chosen to wear her hair up. She’s also worn a dress because he’d asked her to. It’s the simple pink one she had worn to Ian Quinn’s villa, and she thinks she could use some more positive memories associated with it.

“You still going to let me drive?” 

Yeah, she’s not actually certain he was serious about that.

“Of course,” he answers, cheeky smile firmly in place. “But we need to get away from the Bus first, or May will know something’s up.”

“And that would be bad?”

“Hmm. I just gave her a hard time about…”

He cuts himself off, as though he’s realized he’s about to reveal a secret, and Skye jumps in to reassure him.

“Her and Ward?”

“ Yes,” he replies frowning at her. “She told me about their relationship while we were in Mexico.” His eyes are filled with the unstated question of how  _ she _ knows. 

“I figured it out a while ago,” she offers with a shrug. “Is it...did you tell her she should stop?”

“No. Just that...if it caused problems, I would trust her to end it.” 

“Problems?” 

“In a job like ours...divided loyalties can be deadly.”

It brings her up short, honestly. Like, yesterday he’d been all about rule-breaking, but this sounds like —

“Hey,” he breaks off her thoughts with the word and a soft hand on her elbow. “There’s a reason I didn’t tell her to end it.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because May cares about him. And because...I’ve seen the good that can come from having loyalty to people instead of missions and protocols.”

It makes her smile, some of the weight she’s been carrying around drops off her shoulders. 

“You’re becoming a real rulebreaker, AC,” Skye teases him, earning a cute smile.

“Let’s go break some more.”

True to his word, he takes them about ten miles away from the bus and then kills the engine. And suddenly, the thought of driving Lola freaks Skye out.

“You know I don’t have a driver’s license, right?”

His smile at that is amused and almost insulted, like he can’t believe she would ask him that.

“That was an assumption I made, yes, based on the fact that you have no legal identity to speak of.”

He says it like it’s incredibly hot that she has no legal identity to speak of, like it’s something he loves about her.

“And you’re not afraid I’m going to wreck her?” 

“There’s nothing here to wreck with, Skye,” he reminds her, waving his finger around the dirt road they’ve been on and the vast empty grassy fields around them. 

She nods once and gets out of the car, switching positions with Coulson in a way that feels...formal. Serious. To her, anyways. He’s just smiling like it’s nothing. 

“There are a lot of buttons,” she tells him, sort of stupidly, once she’s sitting in the driver’s seat. Like, she feels like she did when she was fifteen and her last foster father took her to get her driver’s permit. It’s...unsettling. 

“You know exactly what to do, Skye,” Coulson tells her, voice calm and confident. “Just relax.”

So she does. And actually, it turns out that she  _ does  _ know exactly what to do, that she’s actually an adult and not a fifteen year old. 

“Good,” Coulson’s voice is just loud enough to be heard as she increases Lola’s speed along the dirt road. “Now turn on the thrusters.” 

She does that, too, flipping open the little cover and pressing the switch forward. Lola rises into the air, and Skye squeals like this is her first time in the car. 

He’s patient with her even when the whole car wobbles at first, but Skye picks it up quickly enough so that she’s taking wide, fast circles around the fields below them.

“Are we in a rush?”

“No,” Coulson answers, still with that easy sexy smile. “We have plenty of time to play.” 

And the double entendre there becomes more obvious when he reaches across the center console and slides his hand up her bare thigh. Skye shivers, but doesn’t object until his fingers creep up her inner thigh enough to brush against her panties.

“Do you think that’s safe?” 

Coulson laughs and pulls his hand back only long enough to flick another switch — stabilizers that function sort of like autopilot. 

He leans in so his lips brush against her ear while his fingers reestablish their position between her thighs.

“I’m going to make you come while you drive Lola. You won’t crash her while she’s in this mode, and once I’m done with you, you can turn off the stabilizers and drive her for real.” 

Skye swallows and nods her head before letting her knees fall open, now that her feet aren’t needed on the pedals. 

Once he’s got her with her legs open, Coulson seems to slow down, though. He drags his fingers back and traces over the hot skin at the top of her thighs before brushing up so that his finger tickles along the edge of her panties, just to the side of her sex.

“Coulson,” Skye whimpers.

“Make sure you keep us going in circles,” he whispers against her ear. “Don’t want to end up in town or back at the bus while my fingers are inside of you.” 

“Fuck,” she grunts at the image and turns Lola’s wheel to make a gentle, wide circle as his fingers jump to the other side of her panties’ crotch, again tickling the skin there. 

“I should have made you take these off before you got in the driver’s seat,” Coulson tells her as his finger finally slips underneath her underwear, only to run up towards her belly and away from where she wants him.

“I’ll remember that when I make you drive back,” Skye promises, earning a soft laugh. 

“Hips up,” the order comes against her earlobe, and Skye complies easily, allowing him to tug her panties down her thighs. 

She goes to unbuckle her seatbelt, thinking it will make it easier to pull them off, but Coulson stays her hand and just leans further forward to help her get them past her knees. 

When she goes to stow them into Lola’s glove box, though, Coulson stops her and instead folds them neatly before tucking them inside his jacket’s inner pocket. The look he shoots her is smouldering, makes her whole lower body clench almost painfully, and then he leans back into her ear. 

“I’ll give them back, don’t worry.” 

There’s something in his voice, though, this dark promise that makes her think he’ll give them back when he feels like she’s earned them. 

“Coulson,” she moans his name and thrusts her hips up towards him. 

He takes pity on her, then, and his index finger makes a slow trail from the top of her slit down to her entrance before sliding back up. 

“So wet for me.” 

His words tingle in her ear, his breath makes her neck break out in goosebumps. 

“Yes,” she agrees, parting her legs more to give him more room to work. 

“Lift up your dress.” 

She does, struggling just a little with her seatbelt to get it out from under her so that her bare ass is against Lola’s seat. The front of the dress gets tucked up into the seatbelt, though, exposing everything from her lower belly down. They both watch as Coulson’s index finger makes another slow trek — brushing her clit before teasing her with the possibility that he’ll push inside of her. 

“ God, Coulson,  _ please. _ ” 

He groans in her ear, and she watches him adjust himself in his trousers — sort of awkwardly with his left hand.

She can see how it affects him — her voice, her begging — so she amps it up, getting louder and more pleading. 

He finally sinks his index finger halfway inside of her, and she’s so turned on that it feels huge to her aching muscles. 

“So tight,” he grunts against her ear as she pushes his finger all the way in, crooking it up to hit against her gspot. He’s almost on top of her by now, turned entirely in his seat to get his right hand between her legs, to get his lips on her ear. 

Skye only manages to groan in response and tilt her hips up, pulsing her pelvis against his unmoving finger to get some friction. 

Coulson’s finger starts to move — slow thrusts curved to hit just right — at the same time that his teeth close down on her earlobe. 

“Coulson,” she calls his name almost helplessly, overwhelmed by sensation. 

“Are you keeping us in circles?” He asks the question quietly once he releases her earlobe, and Skye groans. She hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed until she opens them and sees that they’re within about a mile of the Bus. 

His reminder — that they wouldn’t want to end up back at the Bus while his fingers are inside of her — replays in her head, and Skye just shudders before managing to turn the wheel and guide them in a wide arc back towards the town. 

Once he’s fingered her with just his index finger for a few minutes, Coulson pulls his hand back and then works to push two fingers inside. The stretch feels substantial and Skye releases the steering wheel in order to tug his head down long enough for one short, hard kiss while he pushes inside. 

He kisses her eagerly, tongue mapping her mouth for a ridiculously long moment before he pulls back and rests his lips at her ear again. A gentle exhaled breath makes her shiver against him at the same time that he begins to move his fingers in earnest.

Skye tightens her hands on the steering wheel, trying to keep them going well enough that they’ll know where they are, but it becomes impossible to keep her eyes open as he gets her closer to orgasm.

“Are you close?” 

The words are gruff, grunted right into her ear, and they drive her impossibly higher.

“Yes,” she moans, louder than she means to, but right as she feels herself starting to clench around his fingers, Coulson pulls away. 

“ Don’t  _ stop _ ,” Skye begs him, voice breaking on the plea, but he’s already got his fingers in his mouth. She can only watch, panting open mouthed and desperate, as he sucks the taste of her off his skin.

“Pull over,” Coulson instructs her, “set her down.” His voice is still gruff and matter-of-fact, and she can see how aroused he is. Skye’s hands shake as she complies, switching off the stabilizers so that she’s in control again. 

It’s tense as she starts to guide Lola down — the part of this where she fears she could actually break something — but Coulson is again a steady presence, quietly giving her the confidence that she won’t fuck anything up too badly.

Which she doesn’t. 

“You’re doing well,” he tells her as he guides her through flipping off the thrusters and leaving them back on the ground. Skye cuts the ignition as soon as she can, at which point Coulson unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs her hand to tug her across the center console. She loses her flats as she lets him direct her movements, leaving her barefoot.

“Coulson —”

“Up,” he instructs her, lifting her up and over. She doesn’t understand his plan at all, until her bare ass is resting on top of Lola just behind the passenger seat. Then Coulson turns himself in his seat, bringing his face almost perfectly level between her thighs. 

When he ducks his head down, letting her feel his hot breath, her dress falls over him, blocking her view. She gathers the material awkwardly, trying to tuck it up again, but Coulson pulls back and grins at her.

“Take it off.”

She does, easily, tugging basic cotton over her head so that she’s left towering above him in a beige cotton bra. It gets tossed carelessly into the driver’s side seat while Coulson looks up at her like some kind of supplicant.

“That, too,” he points at her bra.

A very bossy supplicant. 

He grabs the bra out of her fingers before she can toss it on top of her dress, and folds it carefully like he had done with her panties before sliding it into his coat as well. 

“Will I get that back, too?” 

“Maybe,” he answers, lips quirked into a flirty grin. 

He looks over her body like he doesn’t know where to start, like he wants to start everywhere at once, so Skye helps him by grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him up high enough to kiss. Coulson kisses her desperately, lips and tongue greedy as he explores her mouth, and then his hands join in. 

Skye moans into his mouth as his fingers slide from her hips up to cup her breasts, and then his mouth falls from hers, kissing down her neck to join his fingers on her nipples. 

“ You’re so gorgeous,” he tells her, voice quiet and serious as his lips close over her right nipple, sucking briefly before moving to the left. The breeze washes over her then, cold against her wet nipple, and everything feels so ridiculously  _ intense _ . 

It’s like he can’t wait another moment when he finally ducks his head down so he can get his mouth between her legs. And the position is awkward — for both of them, since Skye’s ass is barely balanced on Lola while Coulson is hunched over in the seat — but that couldn’t matter less when he slides his tongue down her slit. He flicks it against her entrance, as though he might push it inside, but then his fingers are back pressing into her and his tongue sets a fast pace against her clit. 

“Coulson,” she keens his name as he works his hand and mouth against her, using his left hand to grip her hip in an attempt to keep her stable. 

She comes fast, ridiculously fast, but Coulson doesn’t even acknowledge it as she feels herself clenching hard around his fingers, pulsing hard under his tongue. He doesn’t let up at all, but keeps fucking her hard with his fingers, keeps working hard circles with his tongue, and Skye almost doesn’t know how to handle it. 

He hums against her, an incredibly satisfied noise like this is everything he wants from life, and Skye reaches a hand to grip onto the back of his head as she tilts her pelvis more towards him. The change in angle makes it a little more uncomfortable to sit, but it’s all kinds of good as his fingers crook up to hit her gspot in time with his tongue’s insistent rhythm on her clit. 

“ _ Coulson _ ,” she grunts his name, and he moans back and starts to suck against her clit, increasing the pressure until she’s bucking wildly against his face. 

She gets loud — super loud — calling his name and a few choice curse words as she comes against his face. He keeps it up for as long as he can, but as she starts to lose her balance, he has to pull back and guide her back down into the car. 

He’s still rock hard — she can see the outline of his erection through his pants — but he leans back in his own seat looking immensely satisfied with himself. 

“You’ve got a little…” Skye circles her index finger around her entire face, pointing out the glistening wetness clinging to him from chin to nearly eyebrow.

Coulson just laughs and kisses her softly. 

“It’s an old confidence technique,” he teases against her lips. “When you have an important business meeting, go in covered in the arousal of a gorgeous woman you just got off. Twice.” 

Skye laughs and shakes her head. 

“Glad I could help, then.” 

He kisses her again, soft lips that trail from her mouth down her neck while his hands stroke over the rest of her still-naked body. 

“I’ve got to be at this lunch in an hour,” he finally sighs, telling himself more than her as he pulls away. 

Skye nods and holds out her hand expectantly, waiting for her undergarments. Coulson just shrugs, though. 

“Part of the confidence technique,” he claims.

She holds back a laugh at that, scrunching her mouth slightly in an imitation of annoyance as she pulls her dress over her head. 

“You’re going to pay for this later,” she promises him, but Couslon’s smile only grows. 

“I can’t wait.”

  
  


4.

They split up at the cafe, and even though having her here wasn’t ever the plan, he finds that he’s glad of it. She keeps a watch of the area around them, and it means he had a chance to go back over the plan they’ve been developing to get at Ian Quinn. 

Plus, he gets to watch her braless breasts move under her cotton dress.

The lunch goes well. And having Skye’s underwear in his pocket definitely doesn’t hurt his confidence as he schmoozes the chief of police.

Afterwards, they walk back to Lola side by side, though Coulson doesn’t even make a pretence of not ogling her. Skye doesn’t seem to mind much, though. There’s a confidence about her, a sway to her hips that he thinks isn’t normally there, that makes him think she might actually like it. 

Besides, she knows her brain is more important to him than her body. It’s just that the ability to openly appreciate her body is new.

When they get to Lola, Coulson pulls out the keys and offers them to her. He has no real expectations about what comes next, but if she wants to drive he’ll definitely let her. 

“ You drive,” Skye tells him. “Although I  _ do  _ seem to remember a rule that the driver of Lola can’t have underwear.” 

“Are you assuming that I’m wearing underwear?” 

She laughs at that and shakes her head, but climbs into the passenger seat without pushing it. 

The drive out of the city is slow, allowing them to take in sights and talk about the mission. It’s comforting to him, actually, to spend this time with her like he thinks they normally would — like nothing so enormous has shifted. 

Once the paved road gives way to dirt, though, and the city fades out behind them, Skye slides as close as she can get  in order to plaster her lips to his ear. 

“I promised you payback,” she reminds him, and he nods. His cock would probably be hard just from her lips at his ear, but her promise makes him almost painfully aroused. “Take her up.” 

He does, but Skye stops him before he can turn on the stabilizers. 

“I’ll match your speed,” she whispers, and before Coulson can even wrap his head around what that means, Skye is tugging down his zipper. 

He exhales, harsh and loud as she fishes out his cock, pulling it through the opening in his boxers. (Which he’s glad he has on, since they provide a layer between his skin and the zipper.)

Lola slows down as he braces himself for the feel of her fist pumping over him, so that he’s shocked when it’s her mouth that covers him. 

Coulson groans, way too loud as Skye adjusts herself beside him and sinks her mouth down further. 

His foot presses down on the accelerator accidentally as he struggles to control himself, but at the gunning of Lola’s engine, Skye’s mouth begins a fast pace sliding over him. 

_ Matching his speed _ .

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he grunts and relaxes his foot off the pedal, watching as Skye slows her pace, too. He tests it several more times, pushing the acceleration until Skye is bobbing her head over him at a desperate pace and then slowing so she’s swallowing him with slow, sensual movements. 

Gun to his head, he’s not sure which he prefers.

Her slow speed is so  _ good _ , so thorough and wet and loving that he can’t help but accelerate, can’t help but want more. But her fast pace gets him so close to the edge, and he doesn’t want to come, yet, so he slows down.

It goes on for several miles — Coulson aware enough of his surroundings and consciously manipulating his speed — before he loses track of whether he pushes Lola’s accelerator to manipulate Skye’s speed or whether Skye is using his cock to manipulate Lola’s speed.

He’s only aware of the changing wind around his face and the changing speed of Skye’s mouth on his cock, and when he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, he lands and drives Lola out off the road. 

Skye doesn’t stop, still matches his speed even when he’s on the ground, even though he’s so close to orgasm he can feel the muscles behind his balls start to pulse.

It becomes a catch-22. He needs her to go as slow as possible so he doesn’t come, but he needs to get further away from the road as quickly as possible before he stops. He crawls through the meadow, punctuated by bursts of speed, trying to hold himself back.

“Skye stop,” he grunts desperately as he stomps on the breaks, bringing Lola to a halt in what he’s pretty sure is the middle of the same meadow where they had stopped earlier.

She does stop, pulling her mouth away slowly and leaving him to collapse back against the seat, panting for breath.

When he manages to turn to look at her, though, Skye just looks confused. 

“You didn’t have to stop yourself,” she tells him, brow furrowed. “You know I wanted you to —”

Coulson groans again and closes his eyes — hearing Skye tell him that she wants him to come in her mouth is probably not something he can handle. 

“I thought you might want…” 

“Want what? This?” 

She climbs into his lap at that, and he can feel his cock brushing against the wetness between her legs. It takes her a minute to figure out the angle, but she’s able to lower herself enough so that he presses into her entrance. 

“Is this okay? Without a condom?” 

She asks the question, and he feels a pang of shame because it really should have been him.

“You tell me,” he responds. 

Skye just rolls her eyes, though, and sits back on his cock. It feels blindingly good — hot and wet and  _ tight  _ —  and Coulson wraps his arms around her while he tries to hold onto some semblance of control. 

At this angle, she can’t sink down all the way, so he thrusts up to make the difference, and that’s when she lets out a quiet, high pitched grunt that lodges in his cock. 

“Again,” she tells him. His seatbelt pins his hips just a little too much, though, so he unbuckles it before he complies, setting their pace from underneath her even as he directs her lips down to his. 

She kisses him wet and messy, everything too desperate and fast and  _ moving  _ to make it any other kind of kiss. But it’s good, it lets him swallow her little grunts whenever he manages to thrust up into her just right. 

They move against each other until Skye’s grunts become one long noise, one long  _ desperate  _ noise — it’s clear that she’s close, but also that she’s not getting what she needs.

“I need harder,” she whispers against his lips. 

He swallows and nods.

“Turn around.” 

It’s actually easier for her to climb back into the passenger seat, which she does, watching as he unbuckles his belt and pushes his trousers down his thighs. 

When she climbs back on, this time facing away from him with her legs parted around his thighs, she’s able to lean forward into the steering wheel and hold on as he thrusts upwards — much harder and much faster. 

“ God  _ Coulson _ ,” she grunts. “Like that. Like that.” 

He pumps into her with everything he’s got as she grinds back against him, Lola’s seat behind him and Lola’s steering wheel in front of her doing almost as much work as they are in providing a surface to push against. 

She comes  _ loudly _ —  much louder than she had been earlier in the afternoon — and he’s grateful for the emptiness of their surroundings. Especially when he follows with a loud yelp of her name. 

Skye collapses forward onto Lola’s steering wheel to catch her breath and then backwards onto him. He wraps his arms around her and cradles her body against his, lounging semi-comfortably (if a little cramped) in the seat together.

“So, do we have to promise that we’ll end this if it’s a problem? That we won’t have divided loyalties?” 

Coulson swallows and rubs his nose through her hair.

“No,” he answers. 

“Why not?” 

“Because part of the reason I said that stuff to May was to get her to admit that she and Ward…”

“They care about each other, right? I saw her looking at him, and…” 

Coulson smiles against her head.

“It might be a risk.”

“But it’s a risk worth taking, isn’t it? If you care about someone?” 

“I care about you, Skye,” he sighs. “You know that, don’t you?”

“And you know —”

“Yes, I do.”

“So now what?” She asks, craning her neck so she can kiss him softly. 

“Now we go back to the Bus and we run our op as planned.”

“And then?”

“Then we take a risk.”

  
  
  


 


End file.
